


The Pride of Pyg

by gothamvillains



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothamvillains/pseuds/gothamvillains
Summary: Jim Gordon and Oswald Cobblepot’s relationship is at an all time strain as Penguin continues his power grab of the city, but their differences must be put aside for the greater good of the lost loves of their lives when new friends Edward Nygma and Lee Thompkins find their safety threatened by a dangerous madman who kidnaps the two to use as bait.





	1. Beware of Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an idea I had for a season four plotline based off of some of the spoilers we've gotten so far that I decided to use as a prompt since I don’t think the writers would ever give it to us.
> 
> I will update every Monday, granted there’s no complications, and add tags to be aware of as needed. There will probably end up being around 5 chapters if it pans out the way I’ve been mapping it.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazlo starts his plans for revenge as the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself in the form of a chance encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular tags to be aware of for this first chapter except for kidnapping and some very minor violence.

He was the unsuspecting master of horror that the city never saw coming.

For all of Gotham’s gloom and doom, his was a new brand of grotesque that had the innocent quaking inside of their homes, giving a silent prayer they would never have to encounter who the press was calling one of the most disturbing criminals to grace their streets yet. 

During those weeks of his reputation growing from whispers in the shadows to front-page headlines, folktales started spreading about the chilling reality of what exactly had been done to the victims he collected that would’ve been enough to haunt even the most strong willed of souls with nightmares.

 _Robots_ , some reports used. _Mindless zombies condemned to live in the hollow shell of what was once a person_. Call it what you will; it was a fate worse than death.

“Not good enough!” Lazlo snorted, tossing his newspaper to the ground in anger. “Pyg needs to make them learn!”

It had been 8 days since the incident at the fair, his thirst for vengeance only growing stronger with each one that passed. The infamous ghosttown of a carnival that had formerly been centerstage for Jerome’s night of mayhem had seemed like the perfect secluded hideout, but somehow, someway the G.C.P.D. had still managed to charge in, guns at the ready, and apprehend more than half of his army.

“It was Penguin’s fault, not Pyg’s! He controls the police; _he_ found the lair and ordered the strike! Ah, but Pyg knows the truth. Why would such a powerful ruler bother with the workings of a supposed madman? He knows the potential Pyg has to send his world crashing, and it  _scares_ him. I‘m almost flattered.”

Then, of course, there was Jim Gordon, a sore thumb when grouped together with the precinct's immoral and crooked. Jim Gordon was a problem, a _pest_.

Right after Penguin had led the charges into the circus only to find puppets where there should’ve been a puppetmaster, Pyg watched from a small break in the tent flap he’d been hiding behind as the kingpin resolved to shrug away the entire operation and file it as a fail. It had been Jim Gordon and his moral code who demanded they bring the cornered minions in, seeing past the irreversible procedure that had made them that way and finding the ghosts of human beings underneath.

“Forget them,” Oswald scowled. “Pyg might still be close by.”

“We can deal with him later. These people need help.”

“They’re not ‘people’ anymore, Jim; they don't matter. What _does_ matter is capturing that lunatic.”

“Which we might’ve been able to do if you had just listened to my advice instead of running in, blindly!” The detective yelled as a fellow officer in a scraggly beard and fedora stepped forward to place a calming hand on his shoulder before things spiraled even deeper into chaos. Temper wasn’t going to solve anything. It never had.

“Fortune favors the bold, Jim. And I don’t think you’re in any position to lecture me on being rash.” This seemed to strike a nerve, and, for a moment, Pyg thought the tension in the room was about to erupt into a full-out war. But those last words resignated and left, and Jim managed to hold his tongue just long enough for Penguin to motion at everyone to fallback outside, leaving Gordon alone with his partner, some stragglers, and the ever-present henchmen whose fate remained up in the air.

They were too far past the point of saving no matter what means or attempts could be employed, but Jim had still insisted any solution was better than abandoming them there for Pyg to return to and continue controlling as pawns. It was a fair point, but one that would cost Lazlo dearly, leaving himself to be found utterly and eerily alone, months of hard work stolen in an instant.

Gordon and Penguin had ruined all of his plans.

Gordon and Penguin had to pay.

 

* * *

 

“Lee…? Lee?!”

The call echoed throughout the building, but only silence responded.

Edward frowned, trudging down the hall and towards a room where Solomon Grundy sat wearing an expression of perpetual bafflement, his focus consumed by a waiting hand of Solitaire that lasted almost a full minute beside him before getting scattered across the floor in a huff of frustration. What even were the rules of that game anyway?

“Solomon!”

“Mm?”

“I said, ‘Have you seen Lee?’”

Solomon shook his head as he made to clean up the mess that’d resulted from what was supposed to be an enjoyable pastime.

Edward sighed. Grundy wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but, then again, neither was _he_ anymore. In fact, as time drew on, Ed had started noticing a strange sensation of contentment and hopelessness mixing inside of him as, day by day, he grew ever more accustomed to way his brain now worked but also increasingly aware of the sad truth that he may be past the point of his mind fixing itself on its own. He was becoming used to this new him, but he didn’t want to be. No matter how many times Lee told him it was healthy to be making peace with the situation it still felt like admitting defeat.

“Well, if she comes back, let me know,” he said, pulling on his coat. “I’m going to go out and try to find her.”

The air was chilly and unwelcoming, but Edward didn’t have enough allies to afford the luxury of losing one. Besides, he enjoyed Lee’s company, even if the remains of the Tetch Virus in her system showed itself in darkness and rage. He might’ve even liked her better for it.

“Oh, come on, work! Stupid piece of junk!” A voice cried out, breaking through the quietness of the evening. Curiosity getting the better of him, Edward peered around the corner of the building at the source of the noise to find a middle-aged gentlemen trying, futilely, to slam one of the back doors of his van shut.

“Are you alright?” Edward called, jogging over.

“Yes, yes. A hinge must be broken or something.”

“Oh. Here, let me help—”

“No! Please. It’s alright. You really don’t need to.”

“Not a problem.”

“Well, that’s... That’s very kind,” the man grimaced while Edward fiddled with the handle. Tension grew inside of him as he watched this stranger become mere seconds away from pulling the door an inch to open, but, so long as he kept it closed enough to continue guarding the world of trouble that laid within, everything would be fine. The left side was secured already and the right just needed a little extra force to click into place, then he would drive off and on his way.

“There!”

“Wonderful. Thank you again.”

“It’s no problem…”

“ _Lazlo._ ”

“Edward,” he smiled, stretching out his hand in gesture. The other man shook it, taking Ed in properly for the first time and skimming him over with an expression of uttermost peculiarity like his eyes couldn’t quite process what they were reading.

“Do we know each other?”

“Oh, um, no… No, I don’t think so,” Edward mumbled, beginning to fidget. How Lazlo had lived in Gotham and never heard of him, he didn’t know, but Ed wasn’t going to be the one to bring up the fact that he was a murderer and convicted criminal in a past life. In the old days, someone being blind to his alter ego and stint as the Riddler would be cause for deep offense and make Ed feel the need to teach them a lesson for daring to forget his name. But now he felt miles away from that person he was and determined not to let those weeks of glory as a legitimate public threat be tarnished by his current, pitiful state. “What’s in here anyway?”

“Oh, just some plumbing supplies for work. Best to let it be; it’s a bit of a mess back there,” Lazlo lied, unaware that Edward had been more interested in changing the subject than actually learning about what he was hiding in the van. “Speaking of which, a customer is waiting now. So, if you don’t mind...”

“Of course. Hope it doesn’t give you anymore trouble.”

Lazlo paused a beat away from climbing into the driver’s seat to glance Edward over again, finding the still strangest sense of familiarity he had found earlier.

“Are you _quite_ sure we’ve never met?”

“Quite sure.”

“You just offered to help some anonymous no one in a city that can’t go a day without murder and mayhem rampaging down the streets for the heck of it?”

Edward shrugged, clearly not having put that much thought into what he assumed was a simple good deed. “Fortune favors the bold.”

A moment to allow for those last words to sink in was all it took until Lazlo’s eyes began to widen, becoming drunk with intrigue.

“ _What_ did you say?”

“It’s just something an old friend told me once,” Edward explained, swallowing hard to repress the emotions threatening to overtake him right then and there as his mind journeyed back to that day on the docks when everything had fallen to pieces. _Fortune favors the bold._ And then he spent the next several months of his life as a statue trapped inside an icy case of eternal damnation. “I don’t know why I said it; it just popped into my head. Really, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, I—I just hadn’t quite heard you. Anyway… Safe travels,” Lazlo smiled, waving goodbye with a false air of relaxed poise as he hopped into his car. But it _did_ mean something, at least something enough to prompt him to rack his brain for a spark of remembrance that might tell him where he’d heard the phrase before.

“Oh, dear God!”

Clambering over the center console, Lazlo reached out and pried the glove compartment open to reveal a mess of papers and newspaper clippings that held every detail on Jim and Oswald he had been able to find. They were what had helped him to realize who he could use to threaten Gordon, and they were what would help him to prove his hunch correct now as, sure enough,  _there_ , standing behind Penguin as a frozen centerpiece in an old flyer for the Iceberg Lounge, was—

“Wait! Mr. Nygma, wait!”

Edward jerked around, completely taken aback by the sudden call of his name as Lazlo nearly tripped over himself trying to scramble out of the vehicle and over to his prey.

“Edward _Nygma._ That's who you are, isn’t it? Of course it is. It’s so obvious now. The Riddler himself, here, in the flesh.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Edward assured him, looking almost a little desperate and scared despite of it all. 

“What? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, you have it all wrong! Not hurt:  _help_. You need my _help_.”

“Help with what exactly?” Edward asked, recoiling as an eyebrow raised itself in suspicion.

Lazlo just gaped at him, mouth open but silent, as he tried to write a script for a play during the performance. Now that he knew the person he was dealing with—and, more importantly, what that person meant to Penguin—Edward was a prize he needed to capture. Lure him in with a worm then reel him up to the surface where there was no chance of escape. It was too important a task to even amuse the idea of failing, and it all rested on how he well he could act the part.

“You were right, we  _haven’t_ met before, but that doesn't mean you are a stranger to me. You see, my job—”

“Plumbing?”

“A cover. Forgive me, my work is… _controversial_ , and plumbing seemed like a better thing to tell a man who could be easily scared off. But, now that it’s become clear you have just as much ability to fright as become frightened, there is no more need to hide.”

“... Controversial how?”

“Ever since a young age, perfection in every aspect has been a goal of mine to achieve. Human beings, they are so fragile and disposable and _flawed_ ,” he explained, the words getting singed with a hint of bitterness too raw to hide. “With _my_ work, however, they may become perfect again, and that includes you, Edward.”

Ed took another step back as he became overcome with shock. “You—You _know_ about my condition?” How could he know? That information was limited to far securer a circle then some random man he’d been completely oblivious to up until 10 minutes ago.

“No, not ‘know’ per say, but knowing isn’t necessary. It’s obvious enough. You are _broken_ , and it shows in your eyes and in the tone of your voice and clenching of your fists. Believe me, detecting this sort of thing has been my one true purpose for many years. Your reputation was short lived, but very promising. You held such potential in the intelligence and cleverness of your crimes, but now all of that which made you whole is lost. Not to worry though; Pyg can fix you… Pyg can make you _perfect_ once more."

A delicate illusion of glass shattered then as the spell Edward had felt himself put under at the hope that Lazlo’s words inspired came crashing down upon him in shards, leaving only a terrifying realization in their place.

 _Pyg_? So it turned out they were _both_ familiar with each other’s work, and the Riddler was no longer the only one on the block with an alias to hide.

Edward felt his breath quicken as he got his first real look at the unprecedented creator of gore and bloody violence that had been dominating the news cycle for weeks, this time not hidden behind that monstrosity of a mask. _Leave! Run! Now!_ Ed’s brain screamed, but his feet couldn’t comply, for right at that moment a sudden thought occurred to him, striking into his mind like a bolt of lightning. It was the kind of thought that he didn’t have the stomach to entertain, but also the kind that couldn’t be ignored.

 _If he was lying about his job..._  

Reality seemed to jump onboard the track his mind was going down then and answer the question so that he didn’t have to as the van’s faulty door popped back open, this time giving him a full look at what—or rather _who_ —was lying unconscious inside.

“ _Lee_?!”

The distracting levels of fear that the sight installed inside of him led the rest of his surroundings to become hazy and forgotten as Pyg took the opportunity to grab hold of a rusty pipe on the sidewalk and hit him from behind until Edward's body crumbled beneath itself and he went sprawled across the ground, world dark and situation helpless.

“Fate is truly a remarkable thing,” Pyg sang, tossing the weapon aside with rejoice. “Now then! Phase two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!
> 
> I had to make some guesses to stuff such as where Jim and Oswald’s relationship will be, how Post-Ice!Ed will act, etc., and I also based Pyg off of my own hopes at what he will be like in the show that's mainly influenced by the Arkham Games.
> 
> Please feel free to comment any thoughts/feelings/suggestions/so on (criticism more than welcomed), and I hope you return next week for chapter two!


	2. A Message in Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim, Bullock, and Oswald attend a meeting with Mayor James as Pyg makes his next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! As promised, here is part two.
> 
> There still isn't too much you need to be aware of as far as tags go, but there is a teeny bit of violence, a potentially gory moment (not really, but I'll say it is anyway just to be safe), and a minor character death. It's nothing too bad though.

_Penguin?_

_Penguin?!_

_PENGUIN!_

Oswald’s head jolted up from the the bar, filling with an excruciating pain that he wasn’t sure whether to pin on the sudden motion or a hangover. _Both_ , he decided. Yes, it was probably both.

 _Penguin_ …

His eyes darted around, searching for the owner of the voice, until he finally spotted a figure sitting in the corner of the lounge, donned in some shimmering green getup that popped outlandishly when pressed against the dark and calm purple of the booth.

Ever tentative, Oswald sauntered over, feeling a bit suspicious of the situation despite the image being right there in front of him, getting close enough to touch.

“Mm, _finally_. Listen, we need to talk,” Edward said, putting down the glass he’d been drinking from and swallowing a last mouthful of wine as he scooched over in invitation for Oswald to join him.

“E-Ed? I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

“ _Again_ ,” Edward frowned, rolling his eyes. “We. Need. To. Talk.”

“I’ve been worried about you. I keep checking the news to make sure you haven’t been captured or convicted or sent back to Arkham.”

“And here I thought you didn’t care,” Edward cooed, putting a hand over his heart in mock flattery. “I know I’ve lost some of my edge when it comes to comprehension, but, even before, I never would've realized ‘stay out of my way or I’ll kill you’ meant ‘you’re still the only one I’d risk my life to save.’ How touching."

“I didn’t say _that_.”

“You didn’t need to. Now come on, Oswald, we have business to discuss.”

Oswald stared him down, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out the endgame of their meeting. But it was an impossible riddle to solve.

“When I escaped out of that ice and finally confronted you again, I found a man who had gone from having every ally, every asset, every resource stripped from him to holding all of the cards in the deck. You’re more powerful now than you were as mayor, and I don’t think it should come as any shock that the reason for that being is you no longer have to fit yourself into some morally sound, good and honest mold just to be in charge. You’re the man with the plan, and that plan doesn’t have to confide to the laws of society anymore. It’s the most ideal of situations you could possibly get, and it has all been in _vain,_  Oswald, because your rulership might be immeasurable in power, but not in time. Soon a new threat is going to be arriving to test how secure your empire is with _my_ life hanging in the balance, and, when that happens, I’m going to need you to make sure that I get the chance to tell you the truth before it’s too late.” 

“The truth about what?” 

“If you’re finding it out then that means I’m already beyond help. Just know that I will always be here for you, Oswald. Even if it’s only in your mind.”

“You’re not making any sense, Ed.  _Please,_ just tell me what’s going on.”

“All will be revealed soon. You’re not going to want to rush this happening. Oh, and Oswald? I need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Yes?”

“ _Wake up_."

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Penguin, you okay?”

Oswald gently lifted his head off of the counter, giving a quick and hopeful glance around in case maybe, just maybe...

No. Nothing. No one was with him there inside of the club except for Harry. _Harold_? He had never been able to remember the detective’s name.

“What do you care if I’m okay? I thought you and Gordon were leading the reigns on a plot to take me down.”

“Don’t act like it doesn’t go both ways. I may not give a damn about you, but you don’t give a damn about me either.”

“That’s not true. I have always held exceedingly great respect for you…”

“Harvey!”

“ _Harvey_.” That’s right _._

“You know what? I don’t care. I don’t have time to argue with your stubborn, self-serving ass. Meet Jim and me at the mayor’s office or don’t. You’re just going to do what you want anyway, so why bother wasting my breath trying to convince you.”

“What’s going on at the mayor’s office?” Oswald asked, finding some hint of genuine curiosity at the information despite the mouth of it’s source. It wasn’t a nationally guarded secret that the position (as well as Aubrey James himself at that point) was a joke reduced to merely providing comedic relief for the city’s more grim and dark segments. Oswald had only let him keep the title in the first place for hopes that allowing actual and elected politicians to remain in City Hall would emphasize to the public that they were still filling the legitimate roles while he was his own brand of government, but it didn’t give Aubrey the authority to do much, if anything.

“No idea, but he requested you and Jim by name.”

“ _Requested_? That moron doesn’t get to request me,” Oswald scoffed, the offence he felt at the mere idea of it showing across his face. “I tell _him_ when and if we get to speak.”

“Then don’t go,” Bullock shrugged, having had little expectations that the conversation would end any other way. “Just know that it’s on you then if some alien’s beamed down from space to destroy the city and you never get the memo.”

“...  _Fine._  But you better hope the city’s about to be destroyed because, I swear, if this ends up being a waste of my time, I’ll destroy it myself.”

“Too late for that.”

Oswald huffed, stretching his legs off of the barstool as he gave his best effort at rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. Still burdened with the weight of a restless sleep, they settled on a granite tabletop in the middle of the club where there had once sat the case that held his heart. Now it was only empty and bare. Oswald breathed a deep sigh of regret, forcing himself to pry his glance away from the area and all the memories it surged around within him.

It had been a long night, and it was shaping out to be a long day to follow.

  

* * *

   

As the clock neared 1pm, every footstep that brought Oswald closer to the mayor’s office instigated a burst of thoughts pleading to turn back before they’d get sucked into an endless hour of boredom and petty problems not worth the tip of his umbrella.

“Jim, looking indefinitely angry as always,” he greeted, spotting Gotham’s trademark do-gooders coming down the opposite end of the hall. “Detective Bullock, you look… the same.”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jim deadpanned, stopping in front of a large, wooden door in the middle of the corridor as Oswald walked up to join them.

“Yes, I’m _full_ of surprises.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Bullock groaned, feeling far from up to another round of verbal sprawling between the two as each match counted down another number on the ticking time bomb of inevitable doom that would soon explode into uncontainable anarchy. It wouldn’t be long now before one of them said something too harsh to go unheard or one of them did something too extreme to be forgiven, but Bullock was prepared to delay that day as long as possible and encourage teamwork for the sake of the city.

“Why are you even here, Harvey? As I recall, Mayor James only needed to speak to me and Jim.”

“I’m providing moral support.”

“How kind—”

“Not for _you_.”

Oswald’s smile slowly started fading into a sour expression of distaste that few had seen and lived to tell the tale, but, thankfully, a stern-looking woman poked her head out of the room then, pushing a pair of horned-rimmed glasses up further onto her nose as she glanced down at a clipboard in her arms.

“Oswald Cobblepot, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock?”

Jim nodded reluctantly and followed her inside as Bullock cast a snarky glance towards Penguin at the inclusion of his name.

“ _See_?”

“Oh, grow up.”

She lead them through the reception area and past a dated TV turned on to some news channel that Oswald couldn’t help but notice was being rather mundane that morning. So nothing coverage-worthy was happening at the moment then. What exactly was this meeting about?

“Right this way. The mayor has been locked up in his office _all_ afternoon working on some new finance plan that he—” the woman’s words were cut off by a sudden and terrified shirek as she pulled open the door to reveal a blood-coated Aubrey James lying sprawled across his desk with a dagger in his back.

Jim quickly pushed past her and over to the scene of the crime as he leaned down to further examine the body, desperately searching for a pulse.

“I-Is he _dead_?” She asked, looking almost as pale and faint as the corpse before them.

“Go call 911 and get an ambulance sent over,” Jim instructed, rushing to pull thought fragments together and form a cohesive plan of action. The woman remained rooted in her spot, looking too petrified to do anything. “ _Quickly_!”

She scurried out of the room and over to a telephone as Harvey came over to get a closer look, immediately recoiling at the gory image.

“Holy hell…”

Oswald hesitantly stepped forward, hand gripping around the head of his cane where their hid a secret knife ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice in case the culprit was still around, about to pounce out and attempt stabbing them too.

“What happened?” He demanded.

“I don’t know. He must’ve been attacked sometime this morning.”

“Well who could've done this?”

“I don’t _know_!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a detective?!”

Fists clenching, Jim closed his eyes in frustration as he tried to calm himself and keep his focus on the subject at hand. Right now, all that mattered was that one of the city’s most influential and well-known political figures had just been found _murdered_ in what was supposed to be a secure building without anyone being the wiser for hours. It was only a matter of time before the story hit the journals, and, once word spread, the entire department and precinct alike would be under fire.

“Excuse me? Officers? You might want to come take a look at this...”

The TV they had passed only moments before began to turn to static, an ear-splitting noise emitting as the picture receded to become fuzzier and fuzzier.

“When did this start?” Jim asked, breath quickening as he, Bullock, and Oswald went to stand beside the clerk in her position across from the screen.

“Just now when I came out.”

“It was working fine earlier. I saw it turned on to the news,” Oswald offered as an image started forming out of the pixels and a broadcast began to be omitted from somewhere deep inside the depths of Gotham’s underworld.

“Jim Gordon, at _last_ ,” a man boomed, body shrouded in the darkness from a shadow that made his features indistinguishable. “And Penguin, it is such a relief to see you here as well. Sending an invitation through the mayor seemed like the simplest means of getting through, but there was always that risk you wouldn’t comply to his instructions.”

“Who are you?” Jim barked at the monitor. “Why did you kill Aubrey James?”

“I know this voice...” Oswald interrupted, mind frantically digging through memories to try and pinpoint a connection.

“My name is Lazlo Valentin,” the man announced, stepping forward into the light to reveal a face Jim had wished in his nightmares to forget. “But you may know me better as _Professor Pyg_.”

Bullock exchanged an anxious glance with his partner then, feeling his heart drop at the destruction of false hope he’d been carrying around those past couple of days assuring him they’d never have to tangle with that monster again. False hope had it’s name for a reason, he supposed.

“Don’t bother trying to track the source of this transmission; we will be leaving our base here shortly. First, however, a message for you.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I _want_? I want what’s _mine_ , detective. I want what you _stole_ from me. My beautiful creations, they need to be returned so that they can finish fulfilling the purpose they were put on this Earth to fulfill. Pyg knows you still have them, and don’t dare try lying,” Lazlo growled, eyes gleaming with fire. “You couldn’t have reversed the effects of my procedure. Shooting them would be the only act of merciful kindness still left to show, and there’s no way you would have taken to those extremes due to your  _infuriating_ , hypocritical sense of morals... although now Pyg supposes he should be thankful for them."

“Say they _are_ still around, you think we’re going to just hand them back over to you?” Jim challenged, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, you will. On the top drawer of our former Mayor James’ desk you should find two envelopes, one with each of your names on it, which should give you all the incentive you need. Until then… _Ci sentiamo_!”

“Wait—!” Jim called, desperate to try anything that might keep Pyg on the line, but it was useless. The feed cut before them, leaving the trio unspeakably frightened as Penguin made towards the adjoining door to find out exactly what the stakes were of this exchange.

“Oswald, stop—What are you doing?!”

“Don’t you want to find out what it is in that envelope that’s supposed to make us bend to the whims of a homicidal maniac?”

“You’re one to talk,” Jim retorted, earning an eye roll from the other man in return. “We can’t just barge in there and start ripping things open without knowing what they are.”

“Why not?!”

“Well, for one, that office is now a _crime scene_ , and, two, it could be a trap and pulling the drawer open might set off some sort of bomb.”

“A _bomb_? _Really_ , Jim?"

“Would you put it past him?”

This made Oswald pause as he asmused the idea for a moment, actually finding some flicker of logic in the points Gordon was making. But, ultimately, he brushed off the detective’s concerns with a wave of his hand, going forward with his own agenda and leaving the other two stranded behind in the dust to watch.

“Look on the bright side; if I blow us up, you get to say ‘I told you so.’ I know you would _love_ that,” Oswald smirked, calling out to them as he located his own marked letter and tore the top open. “ _I_ , however, am curious as to what makes Pyg think he can order me around like some spineless… some spineless…” He trailed off, mouth failing as his eyes took in the subject of the image he was staring at.

“Don’t act so high and mighty just because you’ve gained a little control,” Jim grimaced when Penguin didn’t continue on. “You’re still a criminal, and, one way or another, you will get what you have coming to you, Oswald… Oswald?”

He peered around a pillar and through the doorframe then to look into the office and find the source of the silence. It wasn’t in-character of Penguin to remain so quiet while his authority was being insulted.

“What is that?” Jim asked, seeing it was some square photograph that had captured Oswald’s attention. Starting to get a little concerned, he walked into the office and took out his own envelope, pulling out a similarly shaped item that made his face turn white with horror.

It was a picture taken inside some dark and dingy basement that appeared as if it hadn’t seen human life in over a decade. In the center of the shot, Lee sat, tied-up, eyes wide with fear and mouth gagged with a cloth.

“No…” Jim breathed, flipping through several other polaroids in the pile to see the same scene captured over and over again at different angles. He turned helplessly towards Oswald who placed his own stack down onto the tabletop, all conveying the same essence of dread only with Edward as the one being held captive.

Bullock joined them shortly thereafter, curious as to what all the fuss was about, his glimpse catching sight of something else in the desk that the removal of Jim’s letter had uncovered.

It was a small scrap of paper with red ink sprawled across it in words that Harvey glazed over, wide-eyed, before turning around to show to the others.

“I think you’re going to want to see this…” 

Jim snatched the note from his partner, taking in what was written on it as if it were his own death certificate.

 

501 NORTH STREET.

TOMORROW NIGHT.

BRING MY CREATIONS,

OR I’LL BE FORCED TO MAKE NEW ONES.

-PYG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked part two!
> 
> Another update will be coming next Monday!


	3. Tick, Tick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Ed get a grip on their situation as Oswald and Jim argue over what their next course of action should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part three, yay!
> 
> I feel like this chapter is very dialogue-oriented, but I think that the next one will have some more action as the buildup fades into climax.
> 
> Also, how exciting is it that we got the casting announcement?! I bet Michael's gonna be great, and feel free to comment and discuss any thoughts/theories/etc. about it.
> 
> Enjoy!

_2:25pm_. How long had they been there? How long would they stay?

The room was damp, dark, and miserable beyond any meaning of the word. The small amounts of light produced from the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling almost weren’t worth it given how eerie an atmosphere it made for, especially since the place was already doing a fine enough job of that on its own.

“Ed? Ed are you alright?” Lee asked, filling with concern at the image of her new/old friend in the adjoining cell. His face looked as white as a ghost’s, which was appropriate given the corpse-like state of the rest of his body. “Pyg drew too much blood from you. We need to find a hospital.”

“We take me to a hospital, they take me to Arkham,” Edward croaked, summoning just enough strength in his voice to make the words audible.

“Ed, you were trapped in a block of ice for three months, unthawed, and now this maniac is bringing you close to the point of _death_. Your weak, and Arkham is better than dying.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Pyg said that the vitals he was taking were to determine whether or not we could survive undergoing his procedure. Once he sees how useless I am, I’ll get sent to wherever he tosses away his other failed experiments like trash.”

“Don’t think like that. Someone will come for us.”

Edward sighed, laying his face down onto his lap with an expression of utter surrender. “No one’s coming for me, Lee.”

“Everything’s going to be fine. I _promise_.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t promise that if I were you, Dr. Thompkins,” a man’s voice teased, entering in through the door which slammed back shut behind him with a startling bang. “But if you would rather live out your last few days in hope and optimism, then, sure, keep denying the inevitable.”

“What’s going on?” Lee asked, a hint of fear breaking through her tough facade.

“Pyg must apologize for how unfortunate a fate was placed down upon you both to meet the people that you did. Now those associates have angered the wrong man, and the repercussions of my anger is going to cost immensely. It’s a shame, but so is, often, the truth.”

“What are you going to do to us?” Edward mumbled, visibly shaking from being freezing or frightened or both.

“Mr. Nygma, you look unwell. Mold it however you will, bad clay will never give you the product you’re looking for. Come here…” he snarled, stepping forward to fling open Edward’s cell and pull him up by his shirt collar. “I wasn’t lying, you know. I said I could help you, and I _can_ … just not in this pathetic state.”

He pushed him backwards where Edward felt himself slam hard against stone before sliding down the wall in a grunt of pain.

“Ed!” Lee called out as he went sprawled across the floor, coughing up blood.

“As for you, Dr. Thompkins, I’ve been told that you were infected with the Alice Tetch virus several months ago. Granted, the added endurance and strength that provides makes things on my end a tad more complicated, but, nevertheless, Pyg will adjust and adapt in whatever ways necessary.”

“So that’s it then?” Lee challenged. “You want to make us into minions like the rest of your poor victims?”

“Not entirely. Now, you must believe Pyg when he tells you that, if desired, a dozen suitable subjects could be here within the hour for me to play with and corrupt. The two of you, however, offer a different kind of advantage, one that I am very keen to use.”

Hesitantly, Lee met his gaze as puzzle pieces began to click together despite her not knowing what the completed picture was supposed to look like. “We’re hostages, aren’t we? For blackmail? You said that people we knew had angered you, and that’s why you want us, isn’t it?

“Very good, Dr. Thompkins.”

“It’s Jim Gordon and Penguin, right?” Edward piped up, having lifted himself off of the ground.

Lee stared at him wide-eyed, in shock of this revelation, quickly turning back towards Pyg to see if the theory had struck any kind of nerve. He remained with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, glaring at Edward with a hint of resentment before a devilish-looking smirk began to appear on his face.

“Well, well. Looks like your mind might not be as diminished as I had thought.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sorry to tell you that, if it’s Oswald Cobblepot you’re looking to hoard something over, you’ve chosen the wrong person to kidnap. He won't care about what you do to me.”

“Ah, see, now _that_ is idiotic, but time will tell and make it clear enough for you to see the light. For now, however, all that I've come down here for is your name.”

“M-My _name_?”

“Yes, you fool, your name. It's not that difficult.”

“Edward Nygma.”

“Your _real_ name.”

“That is my real name.”

“Stop lying.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“What I’m ‘talking about’ is an impossible lack of old files on Edward Nygma before the age of 21. No birth certificate, no medical records, nothing. It’s as if you hadn’t existed.”

Edward felt his breath hitch, quickly becoming trapped in between the rock and the hard place of having to admit to his old and long-repressed childhood or facing the wrath of that lunatic for not cooperating. Either way, he was going to lose, so what did it matter?

“N-Nashton... Edward Nashton.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

Lazlo casted a final and venom-filled glance at Lee before turning away and retreating back into the corridor to make preparations for the next stage of his plan.

Once alone at last, Lee turned back to her companion who had picked himself up and was sitting cross-legged, slumped against the wall.

Over the course of those past few weeks she had thought she’d been forming something of a close kinship with Edward that entailed trust and a deeper knowledge of who the other person was beyond a surface level understanding, but now she felt like a stranger looking at someone who had apparently been keeping decades worth of secret history bottled up without her even realizing.

“Are you okay?” Edward asked, noticing the peculiar expression on her face and trying to get a read.

“How old are you, Ed?”

“Huh?”

“How old are you?”

“Um, 29…” he answered, eyebrows raising in curiosity and what had prompted the question.

“29. So that’s… _eight_ years then since you changed your identity. Less than one-third of your life.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand—”

“I thought we had been becoming really good friends, Ed, but it turns out I only know _one-third_ of your entire life story. And the other 66 percent? A mystery.”

Edward sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he reminded himself that this conversation was bound to happen with someone sooner or later. “It's not you, I've just never liked talking about it. But we  _are_ friends, Lee, so I'll give you one question, if it would make you feel better."

“Alright, that seems fair… Why ‘Nygma’ then?”

“It was my mother’s maiden name, actually. I never met her. She left a couple days after I was born and never came back. I’ve considered tracking her down a few times, but I always end up deciding against it.”

“Why?”

“Because my dad was a horrible man, but I grew up hearing the other children talk about how great their parents were and how lucky they were to have them in their lives. I wanted that too. So I decided to never go after her and just let myself believe she was a good person instead of having reality ruin it all like it did with my father… And that was _two_ questions, by the way,” he added, quietly.

“Ed, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m past it now,” he shrugged, laying his head down to rest.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks… You too.”

As they remained there in silence, the clock on the far left wall continued ticking on, marking down each second of their incarceration until fate would come to meet them both.

 _2:32pm_. And that was when the lights went out.

 

* * *

 

The doors of the Iceberg Lounge flew open like the gates of hell as a fuming Oswald stormed in, reigning destruction down onto a variety of poor, unsuspecting glass objects in his path.

“Penguin… Penguin, calm down!” Jim called, rushing in after him.

“'Calm down'? You want me to ' _calm down_ ' after that insignificant swine just threatened my own power like some arrogant child?!”

“You’re not upset because he’s blackmailing you, you’re upset because he’s using Nygma to do it. It’s understandable, but you can’t let it get you so worked up that you do something reckless and ill-advised.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jim, I forgot that you’re the master of giving life advice!” Penguin spat back, the words getting seethed with a sarcasm that did not go unnoticed.

“You think I don’t know how you feel? He has the woman I _love_!”

“I know perfectly well how you feel, Jim, and it doesn’t make me any less motivated to run in there and rip his head right off,” Oswald grimaced, snatching some wine off of the bar’s shelf and popping the top open to drink directly from the bottle. Jim sighed, eyes wandering over to the middle of the establishment and the sight of its former centerpiece attraction.

“You know, you’re getting awfully concerned over the wellbeing of a man who you had frozen alive and turned into a decorative statue.”

“That situation was… more complicated than you might have believed.”

“What even happened between you two? I still remember that night I woke up in Ed’s apartment when you were singing a duet on the piano together. You had called him your friend.”

“He _was_ my friend. He was the best friend I had ever had.”

“Until he tried to kill you and you turned him into an ice sculpture.”

“Nothing good can last, Jim, not in this city. Now he’s probably hurt or worse, and I don’t even know if I‘ll be able to save him.”

“Of course you will. Everything’s going to be fine. Bullock’s at the precinct, as we speak, trying to get all the files that we have on Pyg together. Lee and Ed will will be recovered before he has time to make good on his promise."

“You don’t know that. I… I think we need to do what he asked and turn over his henchmen.”

“Oswald, you know we can’t. They’re _people_ , and if word got out we traded over thirty living humans who’ll be used to terrorize Gotham just to save two of our own—”

“I don’t care! I don’t give a _damn_ if the city thinks I’m immoral or crooked.”

“Well  _I_ do. People need to know there’s still good guys fighting for what’s right.”

“Are there, Jim? I mean, look how long you’ve been here now, and, yet, you still can’t seem to comprehend the simple fact that sometimes you need to break the rules to get the job done.”

“No—No, there's always a right and wrong choice to make. Life has grey areas, but that doesn’t mean we can stoop to your levels whenever we want just to avoid having to take the high road. Justice deserves to be served, and it needs to be served in the right way.”

“Alright, fine, you tell yourself that when it’s Dr. Thompkins who’s contained in holding with the rest of his other minions. There’s no cure, you know. He took away the parts of their brain that made them human, and there’s no coming back from that. They’re beyond saving, but Leslie and Edward aren’t. At least not yet.”

“So that means we just surrender? We tell him that we have no other options and are being forced to comply to his kind? That’s permission for every other lying, stealing, murdering criminal in this city to do the _exact_ same thing.”

Oswald opened his mouth to argue back when the doors of the club were suddenly flung open by a very out-of-breath Bullock who raced in with a folder tucked under his arms.

“Both of you, look at this!”

Harvey pulled out a map printed off of the internet that resembled a street on the other end of town. Still wheezing, he jabbed his finger at a building circled in red pen until Jim snatched the paper from him to hold up to his face for closer inspection.

“This is the Westend salon. It closed down three years ago.”

“Our intel thinks this is where Pyg’s keeping Lee and Nygma,” Bullock explained, removing several photographs from his file, all of the exterior of the store. It looked abandoned to say the least: unkept, decaying, and more like the kind of barber shop Sweeney Todd would open to slit the throats of his victims rather than an actual profiting business.

“It certainly looks like somewhere he’d go,” Jim frowned, handing the pictures back to his partner to put away.

“Apparently we’ve had officers surveying it for the past week after a neighbor reported hearing screaming coming from inside.”

“Well, what now?” Oswald asked, patience thinning to reveal all of the doubt and fear he held inside.

“We can surround it. We'll get a strike force ready to charge in with guns and apprehend Valentin,” Jim suggested.

“I’ll call it in and have the squad suit up.”

“Are you really sure this is the best course of action, detectives?”

“Absolutely. Trust us, Penguin, by this time tomorrow, Pyg will be behind bars,” Bullock assured him, straightening his hat as he pulled out a flip phone and made towards the exit.

Jim followed closely behind, leaving Oswald alone to watch as the pair went off to finalize their plan.

“Not good enough,” Oswald huffed, pulling out his own device and dialing in a number. “Zsasz? Are you there? Gordon and Bullock are making plans to bring in Lazlo Valentin and have him put into custody, but I need him gone before that’s able to happen. He kidnapped Edward and possibly even tortured him. As long as Pyg's still breathing, Ed will never be able to feel safe inside of his own home again, let alone roaming the streets. I want you to give me your word that you can sneak in on the G.C.P.D.’s raid and get to Valentin before they do. In exchange, I’d be willing to extend any resources you might need for future assignments with no questions asked… Excellent. Meet me in an hour, and bring your gun. Professor Pyg dies _tonight_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked part three!
> 
> Again, this chapter was mainly just buildup for establishing Ed and Lee's situation as well as what Jim, Oswald, and Bullock are planning to do next.
> 
> Will Ed and Lee be saved before it's too late?! Will Pyg die?! Frankly, I'm not even positive myself, but check back next week to see if I was able to make up my mind!


	4. On the Brink of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get angsty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I updated earlier than usual today! :D
> 
> Tags to be aware of for this chapter are some minor bloodshed and violence, and a deeper reference to Ed's childhood.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the second-to-last chapter!

_This is a trap._

_This is a trap, and the neighbor who called in the tip is in cahoots with Pyg to lure us into the building so that we can all be slaughtered at once._

Those were the first thoughts to run through Jim’s head as some last-minute preparations began to be made in front of the alleged hideout. He had been so angry before after their first attempt ended with them walking out, stuck with an army of helpless drones, but now he supposed he should’ve just been grateful that they had walked out of there at all.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, already dreading the answer as the warnings going off in his mind were put on hold at the sight of Oswald grabbing a pistol out of the back of the squad van.

“Gearing up?”

“You’re not coming with us. This is a mission for trained professionals only.”

Oswald snorted, stepping forward to Jim until there was barely a foot between them. “It’s cute how you actually think you’re the one calling the shots—”

“Bow out, Oswald. This is becoming too personal for you.”

“Too personal for _me_? Aren't you the one that killed Leslie’s fiancé? And now you’re prepared to charge in like we’re not in the same boat here, acting like you’re so much more experienced than I am?”

“At least I killed mine because he was about to harm her.”

“ _What_?”

“You think I don’t know? Ed told Lucius that the reason he had shot you was because you murdered his girlfriend. Granted, I’m not sure what your motives were, but they would’ve had to have been pretty damn good for you to do that and still be able to judge me about Mario.”

“Touché, old friend. You know, maybe it’ll be for the better if we don’t come out of this alive tonight. We’d be doing Gotham a service.”

Jim sighed as Bullock stepped forward to stand next to him and watch while Penguin sauntered away, undoubtedly getting ready to do something stupid.

“If we wake up tomorrow and our heads aren’t blown off, remind me to never complain about a crappy cup of coffee again.”

Jim remained solemn, unable to appreciate Harvey’s attempt at lighting the mood as it had done nothing to ease his mind from the beyond incomprehensible danger they were about to put themselves in. Still, danger was the only option they had left.

“Alright, listen up!” Jim yelled, signaling the attention of his fellow cops. “If we stay smart about this we can capture Valentin and stop him before he hurts anyone else. I know the raid at the circus was a fail, but our sources are telling us that we should be able to find him here so long as we follow the plan. I want everyone on their guard, and radio for backup _immediately_ if you spot something... Let’s take this son of a bitch down once and for all.”

Ready and able nods responded to his speech, bravery shining off the faces of the other half-a-dozen officers before him.

“It’s not too late,” Oswald suddenly called out, the tremor in his voice revealing a panic he fought himself to the core to try and hide. “We have almost 20 hours before his offer expires. We can still give him want he wants and avoid all this risk.”

“Today it’s his minions; tomorrow it’s the key to the city. There’s no negotiating with his kind. We have to be stronger than that… We _will_ be stronger than that.”

Oswald gave a roll of his eyes at the sentiment, one that conveyed a knowing of just how hypocritical and ironic the words were despite Jim having almost everyone else fooled.

“Penguin, I want you to come with me,” he demanded, more of an order than a request. “I’d rather keep you within my sights. Everyone else, follow Detective Bullock until he gives you the clear to disperse.”

At this cue, Bullock motioned his arm towards the entrance, leading the force as Jim stepped over to Oswald and offered out a larger gun than the one he was currently packing

“Last chance to back out.”

“No thanks,” Oswald grimaced, snatching the weapon and throwing it over his shoulder in battle position. “ _Let’s go._ ”

 

* * *

  

“LEE? NYGMA?”

“EDWARD,” Oswald tried, but it was becoming hopeless beyond reason. For all any of them knew, the captives were off in a completely separate basement, far from the one they were scourging through with no luck. “This is pointless—”

“Wait—Wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Jim stopped in his tracks, concentrating hard as he tried to identify the disturbance. It almost sounded like…

“Quickly, this way!”

Oswald followed behind him, deep in confusion, as Jim took off in a run down the hall, reaching a heavy-looking iron door at the end and forcing it open.

“Lee!”

“Jim, thank God!” She breathed as he rushed forward and knelt down in front of her cell.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Pyg must’ve drugged me with more of the antidote when I was knocked out after he first took me. I can’t find the strength to bend this metal like I could back at the G.C.P.D.”

“Where’s Edward?” Oswald interjected, stepping forward with fear in his eyes at the noticeable absence of the other man in the room.

“I-I’m not sure. The power went out, and then, when it came back again, he was gone.”

“Just like that? You didn't hear anything?”

“Nothing. I have no idea what he’s planning to do to him.”

“Lee, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t help you before,” Jim whispered, softly.

“None of that matters now. I made my choices on how I wanted the virus to affect me, and it’s not your fault I let it turn me into what it did.”

“We can get you out of here, get you help. Things can go back to the way they were.”

“It's too late for that.”

“It’s never too late,” he promised, trying to take her hands in his through the bars of the cage.

“For the love of God, we’re trying to capture a _madman_ here!” Oswald fumed, throwing his arms up, unbelievingly, at their choice in timing.

“Jim? Jim, can you hear me?” Bullock’s staticky voice called out through the radio clipped to his pocket.

“Harvey? Yeah, I’m here with Penguin; we have Lee. What’s going on?”

“I think I just saw Victor Zsasz turning around a corner not too far ahead of us.”

“Zsasz…?”

Jim’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared towards the ground in careful thought for a moment before whipping his head back towards Oswald with an expression of utter accusation.

“ _You_?"

“Me. _"_

 _“_ But, Osw—”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.”

“What the hell is he here to do?”

“What assassins do best. If I don’t finish the job first, that is.”

“This isn’t an execution!” Jim barked, standing up again to swiftly snatch him by his shirt.

“Sorry for not being able to show mercy towards that depraved _psychopath_ , but, if you’ll excuse me, I have someone I need to go rescue,” Oswald huffed, ripping out of Jim’s grip and heading towards the door with his gun loaded and waiting.

“He knows what he’s doing, right?” Lee asked, rising off the floor to watch him disappear into darkness.

“No. No, he doesn’t.”

Jim frowned, getting lost in thought at the hundreds of scenes flashing through his mind containing every violent outcome to their situation. He shook his head to clear away the visions and turned back around to face Lee again, remembering his priority. What Penguin did was Penguin’s problem now.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here…”

 

* * *

 

“HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP!"

“Shut up!” Lazlo barked, lunging towards Edward as he made to tie a gag around his mouth. “Don’t put Dr. Thompkins’ safety at risk by making me need to give you some incentive to cooperate.”

This finally made Ed stop fidgeting in the chair he was strapped down onto, and Lazlo breathed a sigh of relief at the regaining of a quiet work environment.

“ _Good._ Now, you were cryogenically frozen for roughly three months, unthawed by a power outage caused during Jonathan Crane’s attack against the city, and never received any form of medical attention or care from a legitimate hospital afterwards, correct?” He asked. Edward nodded back hesitantly, unable to do anything more what with the cloth muffling all of his attempts at noise. “No wonder you’re in the state you are… Well, that certainly takes making you into one of my creations off of the table. Pyg thinks, however, a suitable alternative can be found in turning you into something equally controllable, but without the physical toll it would take on your body. A right hand man, of sorts: still forced to do as I ask, but not exactly mindless and zombied like the rest of them. I almost had to prepare without any knowledge of your medical information, but, once I updated my search to account for your changing your name, Pyg found every record that he required to ensure this procedure goes flawlessly. Although, I must admit, there were a great deal more accounts of hospitalization than I had been expecting: broken bones, fractured ribs, concussions, internal bleeding. Tell me, Edward Nashton, how _does_ someone manage to ‘fall down the stairs’ so suspiciously often?”

Edward felt his heart start to race, the implication there was in Lazlo’s asking him this despite knowing he couldn't respond proving that he knew the real cause of those visits and merely wanted to taunt him by adding insult to injury.

“Oh, and you’re going to want to slow your breathing,” he advised, stomping over to press Edward’s skull against the back of the chair and harness it around the headboard with the same type of belts that were restraining his wrists and chest. “This may hurt…”

Edward’s eyes widened as Lalzo picked up a large-looking needle from a tray next to him and gave the point a flick, causing a spurt of clear liquid to arch out.

“Just some sedative. Relax, all that’s left is for you to let it take you down into a deep sleep while Pyg begins the operation. See you on the other side…”

Lazlo fought to hold still his arm as Edward wriggled and squirmed, letting out suppressed screams that he knew no one would ever hear.

“ _One…_ _Two_ … _Th_ —”

Pyg released a shuddered gasp as he felt the bullet penetrate through his stomach, making him crumble to the floor where a pool of blood began to spill out around him.

“Ed!” Oswald yelled with unprecedented relief, lowering his gun as he stepped over a wounded Lazlo and made his way towards the center of the room. He had barely finished untying the binding when he felt the other man crash into him, Edward’s head burrowing itself in Oswald’s neck as he absorbed the feeling of security and warmth he had thought he’d never get to experience again.

“O-Oswald, you came for me?”

“Of course I did. You really think I’d let something happen to you?”

Edward pulled away, leaning past Oswald to look at the mess that was his former captor.

“Is he...”

“Yeah. Listen to me, Ed, you never have to worry about him again, alright? I’ve got you. I promise.”

Edward felt his heart lift as Oswald pulled him up and out of the chair, checking over his body to make sure there weren’t any scars or bruises. But, no. He was fine.

“He was supposed to give us until tomorrow night to make an exchange for you and Lee, but you both probably would’ve been too far gone by then. Can’t say it surprises me that such a monster could be below honesty and follow through.”

“Is Lee _okay_?” Edward gasped, unable to stop his mind from jupping to the worst conclusions.

“She’s fine; Gordon got to her. Listen, Ed, I… I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know this is coming all too late, I just realized that, in everything that was said that night at the Sirens, I never actually apologized to you. I hurt you, wanted to take advantage of that hurt to manipulate us into some type of relationship, and I know that must’ve made it seems like my feelings were selfish and less than genuine, but, what I need you to know—what I guess the point of this is—is that I care about you more than anyone else in the world. I _love_ you, Ed, and I never stopped. I know we’ve had our struggles, and I know there’s still a lot left we have to discuss, but I _want_ to discuss it. I want to wake up in the morning and see you again. I want to spend nights together, laughing despite whatever threat is holding the city hostage because we know that it's no match for us.”

Edward marveled at him, eyes softening as the memory of a happier day between them surged through his mind. He would give anything to get another day like that back.

The rush of joy only lasted a moment, however, before his face suddenly fell morbid, seeming to have remembered something he wanted to forget.

“Oswald, you know that I’m still… _affected_ from the ice. I may just be a burden.”

“You’ll never be a burden, Ed. No matter how intelligent you are, you’re still the greatest ally I could ever hope to have by my side. What do you say?”

Edward smiled, looking towards the ground, scared at having this revelation that he hadn’t even come to himself so long ago about to be put out into the open with his heart lying flat on the table. But hadn’t Oswald just done the same thing?

“I’ve never exactly had a ‘family’ before. That morning I walked in after missing our dinner and you ran up to hug me was the first time anyone had ever been happy to see me come home. I’m so used to the people around me showing affection by being manipulative and hurtful that, when I found out what you did, I immediately jumped to the conclusion that we would be the same way, but that wasn’t true. Far from it, actually. I just couldn’t accept the fact that, for once, I had something real… Something _good_.”

Oswald pulled him into another embrace, somehow feeling more powerful than when he had taken control of the entire city. “We are going to look back at our bad times and laugh one day, Ed, because, really, what’s a few months of fighting when followed by a lifetime of happiness?”

Edward closed his eyes and squeezed his arms tight around the shorter man, scared to let go for fear he might lose the very thing people spent centuries trying to find. He rested his chin on Oswald’s shoulder, thinking it almost unbelievable that one of the most terrifying and deadly experiences of his life would soon turn into a day he’d treasure forever.

“Oswald, I…” Edward froze, spotting out of the corner of his line of sight a figure moving around on the floor in front of him, reaching for something inside of his pocket and pointing it directly at Penguin’s back. “Oswald!”

The gunshot sounded just as Edward was able to spin them around, placing Oswald behind him so that he could be shielded as Ed took in the full blast of the blow.

“NO!” Oswald screamed, lowering to his knees as Ed’s body crumbled beneath itself and onto the ground.

Pyg smiled, breathless but satisfied with the result of his shooting and the last act of vengeance he had been able to inflict upon the pair. Wearily, his head fell back down onto the floor as he succumbed to the fatal wound inflicted upon him by Penguin who, only mere feet away, was somehow finding himself in an even worse position.

“No—No, please!” Oswald cried, bringing Edward’s head to rest on top of his hand for support as he made to cradle the dying man before him.

The green sweater he’d been wearing was promptly ripped off to reveal his tank top underneath rapidly turning red with blood from the hole by his shoulder as flashes of something more than a memory shot through Oswald’s mind.

 _Soon a new threat is going to be arriving to test how secure your empire is with_ my _life hanging in the balance, and, when that happens, I’m going to need you to make sure that I get the chance to tell you the truth before it’s too late._

“O-Oswald…” Edward muttered, gasping to fight for breath. “Oswald, I-I’m sorr…”

“Hey—Hey, look at me. It’s okay. You don’t have to say any more,” Oswald smiled, trying to hold back the flood of tears forming in his eyes. “But I need you to relax for me, alright? Everything’s going to be fine; you’re going to be fine. Just stay with me, Ed… Stay with me, _please… Stay with me…”_

Those were the last words Edward heard, repeating like a mantra, as the room started to fade out around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed part four!
> 
> Ooh, and, as you may have already noticed, Pyg slips in and out of referring to himself in the first person because I wanted him to talk that way as a nod to the Arkham Games, but it didn't read well after a while when I used it every time. Also, the "minions/zombie drones/henchmen" I keep referring to are his Dollotrons from the comics. I didn't want to call them by their name because then it felt like I was making him too complete and final a villain like he is when appearing against Batman, but that's who they're supposed to be in case anyone was confused about what was going on there. Should've mentioned all of that stuff earlier, whoops. Better late than never.
> 
> Anyways, get ready, because next week is the final chapter, and then gOTHAM COMES BACK ON THURSDAY, WHOO!


	5. ... And Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, part five! There aren't any new tags to be aware of, and this chapter is still SFW.
> 
> I can't believe the story's over already! I've had so much fun writing this, and I hope you guys enjoy the ending.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Frankly, Mr. Cobblepot, it’s hard to tell. All we can do at this point is continue monitoring his vitals and hope for the best.”

The doctor handed him a file filled with further details on Edward’s condition before making his way back out into the hall, brushing past Jim Gordon in the doorway as he left.

Hesitant, the detective waited behind Penguin, letting the pained and agonized look on the other man’s face help him to move past their feud from the weeks before and find a feeling of empathy.

“How’s he doing?”

Oswald sighed, recognizing the voice without even having to turn around. “For someone who was frozen alive and then shot in the chest? Not bad.”

“I’m sorry. For making us storm in, I mean,” Jim explained, taking a seat beside him.

“Don’t be. Valentin was already in the middle of operating when it happened. If we had waited like I asked to, it would’ve been too late.”

“You said that you killed him, right? That Pyg’s dead? Where did his body go?”

“I, um, let Zsasz take care of it,” he muttered, gaze staying fixed on the floor. Jim opened his mouth to challenge this, leading Penguin to clear his throat as he hurried to move the subject. “How’s Dr. Thompkins doing?”

“Lee’s worried about Ed, but she seems to be doing better. Whatever version of the antidote Pyg used to block her strength must’ve also had some effect on what the virus was doing to her brain.”

“Are you getting back together then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Love always is,” Oswald shrugged, giving a short laugh that lacked all sense of humor. Jim’s face remained turned downwards and burdened, carrying on it an expression of nervousness at the idea of saying whatever it was that was clearly plaguing his mind. “Is something wrong?”

“I _know_ , Oswald.”

“Know what?”

“That you loved him. That jealousy was the reason you had murdered his girlfriend.”

Oswald felt his heart drop as any words he could manage to string together got caught in his throat and lost. “How—?”

“I realized it after you tried to convince me to hand over Pyg’s minions. I told you that to comply would mean admitting defeat and giving up power, but, afterwards, it occurred to me how strange it was that _you_ , of all people, were okay with doing that. I bet if he had just threatened your club, or your men, or your position, you would’ve been your usual stubborn self with all the qualities that make you so prone to failing whenever you get too arrogant to think that you can.”

“Wow, way to kick me when I’m down.”

“That wasn’t an insult. If you weren’t those things you would’ve never risen to power in the first place, and you only let yourself get too egotistical for your own good because you know that you would never lose anything you couldn't get back. But Ed? Ed wasn't worth that risk. You spent years being someone who took orders and let himself be bossed around, but you were willing to be that man again and put pride and reputation aside if it meant saving his life.”

“And look where we ended up… I was so worried after the accident set him loose, and I said it was because I was scared he’d want to get his revenge on me, but, the truth was, I was scared for _him_. If Lee hadn’t found Ed and known what to do medically, he probably wouldn’t have made it. He could’ve _died_ , and then, when I finally tracked him down and saw how diminished he was, all I did was tell him to stay out of my way ‘or else.’ No apologies, no confessions, just threats. What if Pyg had done something before we found out where they were? Those would’ve ended up being the last words he’d ever hear me say. And then, after everything, I barely get the chance to tell him how I really feel before _this_ happens. I’m not one to wallow in self pity, but it’s just… It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not. But after so many things go wrong, Oswald, eventually  _something_ has to go right. You’ll land on your feet. You always do.” Jim placed a gentle hand on the back of Penguin’s shoulder as a sign of sympathy before stretching up and out of his chair to leave him in peace.

“Jim, wait!”

He turned around at the sound of his name to see a face full of such sorrow and loss that, for a moment, he forgot how ruthless the other man was, seeing only a delicate person who could be broken just like everyone else.

“Lee loves you, you love her, and you’re both alive with the rest of your lives ahead of you. Don’t take that for granted.”

Jim gave a short nod of understanding before walking back out, leaving him once again alone with his regrets. Oswald’s chest tightened as he tried to recompose himself and find enough strength to step forward towards the unconscious man lying hopelessly still on the hospital bed in front of him.

Edward’s face was deathly pale and looking more like a corpse than anything else, but the way in which his eyes were closed in resting almost gave him a peaceful appearance. This effect lasted, of course, only up until his chest where there sat the wound of a bullet hole that was still fighting to take his life.

“Ed,” Oswald breathed, gently pushing back strands of brown hair from his forehead. “Don’t leave me. _Please_ , come back…”

 

* * *

 

“Lee… You came.”

Jim walked over and sat beside her on the park bench as the wind picked up, turning the air bitter and cold. In a way, it was fitting.

“I told you I would.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I never realized how much the virus was impacting me when I had it. I’m suddenly being hit with more guilt than I think I can handle.”

“Don’t. Gotham doesn’t deserve you, Lee. It never did… _I_ never did.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, it is. I put the city before us, even though I knew it was a hopeless cause, and it wasn’t fair to make you keep waiting and waiting while I stopped one threat after another. There may never come a time when crime is gone and the innocent can safely roam the streets without having to fear getting shot, so why continue to delay our future for a goal I can never achieve?”

“What are you saying, Jim?”

“I think I’ve found a way where we can have it all. I won’t have to give up everything I've been fighting to protect, but I also won’t have to let it consume my life anymore.”

He handed her a single sheet of paper that was the printed out version of a typed document. Her eyes skimmed over it, widening as they took in the true purpose of the letter.

“Harvey wants to step down as captain. The G.C.P.D. is looking for a new leader, and I think I may be good fit for the job.”

Lee smiled, still looking down at the form, the idea seeming more and more perfect the longer it resonated inside of her head.

“I like the sound of that…” she tested, the words on the page bringing with them the hope and promise of a brighter future. “Captain Gordon.”

"And, maybe, one day, even commissioner."

  

* * *

  

It was dark, and the room was deafeningly silent. Oswald had been continuing to sit by Edward’s side, using some book as a feeble attempt at a distraction, when the beeping suddenly seemed to swallow him up whole.

Panicked, he jumped to his feet, the fear beginning to overtake his mind and prevent him from calling out to an aid like he knew would be logical. His hesitance, however, proved not to be important when a trio of nurses rushed in on their own a mere few second later, blocking Oswald’s view of Edward as they all huddled around him, attempting some last-ditch effort at saving his life that was too late to do any good.

The last thing Oswald heard was the start of the flatlining coming from a machine as the rest of the world around him seemed to crumble into pieces.

“ _No_. No, _please_ , no... Edward?!”

  

* * *

 

Oswald’s eyes snapped open as he took in a giant gasp of air, heart racing a mile a minute and forehead covered in a cold sweat that had left him drenched.

After a few moments, he began to remember his surroundings and ground himself back in reality.

He was home at the mansion, safe and sound in bed.

He dropped his head back onto the pillow with a sigh of relief as he caught a glimpse of the figure lying next to him, proving once and for all that, finally, the nightmare was over.

Edward began to stir slowly, being in the middle of stretching his arms behind him with a yawn when he realized that Oswald was up as well.

“Good morning… Is everything alright? You look distressed.”

“Everything’s perfect,” Oswald assured him, quickly trying to wipe the remains of his terror from his face before it caused Edward any deeper concern. “How did you sleep?”

“Much better than in the hospital, although even that still beat Arkham by a mile. I can’t believe you were able to save me from being taken there.”

“There are many perks to being the man who pulls the strings, Ed. You’ll never have to step foot inside of that hellhole again, so long as I have something to say about it.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Edward muttered. Reassured, he sunk back under the covers, and Oswald felt a weight lift off of his shoulders to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of warmth at how innocent he looked lying there.

“Edward Nygma, you have the cutest morning hair,” he laughed, running his hands through the short and soft curls.

Ed looked at him with a smirk, admiring the pure expression of joy being worn by the other man and the way it lit up his face. “Oswald Cobblepot, you have the most beautiful smile.”

Oswald beamed, gazing down upon the love of his life with complete admiration before pulling him up into a passionate kiss.

Their mouths met, lips softly coming together, as everything else seemed to fade out of importance. Right now, it was just the two of them, all alone in the world, the way it was meant to be.

After a moment, Oswald’s eyes opened in shock as he remembered the one other thing that might’ve be worth bringing into their own private universe.

Regrettably, he pulled away, Edward’s face quickly turning into an expression of disappointment. “What—?”

“This is a good thing, trust me,” Oswald promised, handing Edward his glasses from the nightstand. “It’s a surprise for you. Call it overly optimistic, but I had hoped you would eventually recover and be released from the E.R.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm. Come here…”

Oswald took hold of his hand, pulling Edward out of bed with him as they made their way down the hall. They descended to the first story and stopped in front of the dining room where Oswald threw open the door handle like the host of a game show getting ready to reveal their grand prize.

“Ta-da!”

“Oh, my…”

There, tied-up, squirming futility on a chair from the kitchen table, sat a defenseless Lazlo Valentin, former powerhouse, now reduced to nothing but a shivering wreck. His shirt was pulled up halfway to reveal bandages around his stomach that were stopping the blood from pouring out of a bullet hole that had been an inch from ending his life.

“Like you, our dear Professor Pyg over here has also had a trying past couple of days. If you want to prolong the fun, don’t do anything too extreme too quick that his already-weakened body won’t be able to handle. But, then again, go big or go home, am I right?” Oswald smirked, holding out a switchblade in temptation.

Edward gaped unbelievingly, slowly taking hold of the knife and feeling it around between his fingers.

“Welcome home, and enjoy your retribution, my love.”

The room suddenly turned dark, anarchy corrupting the quiet, and the dawning of a glorious pair of monarchs prepared to take Gotham as their own. For months, it had been nothing except an endless period of pain and suffering, but the payoff for that time was about to be immense. They had decades and decades ahead of them to be whoever they wanted to be and do whatever they wanted to do, and those years would not go to waste. Only a short month later, the G.C.P.D. would have a formal swearing-in ceremony for their new leader, and, not long after that, the first official sighting would come of a new brand of justice meant to guard and protect the city from any threat who ever tried to harm it, but no commissioner or vigilante alike would ever prove a match for them. They were unstoppable, and God help anyone who dared to stand in their way. They were the rulers of Gotham.

Long live the kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, I never know how to end things, but thank you all so much for reading this! I can't tell you how much the continued support and kind words you guys have been sending mean to me.
> 
> I'm kind of sad this fic is over, I feel like there are still some things I could've extended on (what happened next/Ed getting his intellect back/etc.), but I think it's best I leave this story the way it is and begin to work on some new ones.
> 
> That being said, please feel free to comment any final critiques/suggestions/things I could do better for next time/ways I could improve that you guys have. All feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Thank you all again, and I hope you enjoy the return of Gotham this Thursday! For those of you who don't know, my Tumblr is @/gothamvillains should you find yourself with a good amount of feels during the season premier and need somewhere to vent to/rant to/discuss things. My inbox is always open. <3


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